


Muse Whispers Drabbles/Short stories

by TalaNokomis



Category: Final Fantasy VIII, Gundam Wing, One Piece
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 06:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11845641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalaNokomis/pseuds/TalaNokomis
Summary: Collection of writing from another LJ Community.Ratings/Pairings/Fandoms to be added as chapters are.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Final Fantasy VII:  
> I believe this work was inspired by this prompt/quote:  
> To love and win is the best thing. To love and lose, the next best. William M. Thackeray

Funny that such an awkward start, would come to such a blissful end.

For him at least.

He couldn't quite ask Squall, as the brunette was still asleep. The moonlight bathed his hair, his skin, made him even more impossibly beautiful in Irvine's eyes. 

And the silver, it suited him. Suited the ways his moods would shift, just like the waxing and waning of the moon. And how, unless you knew where to look, you'd never notice.

Squall's eyes.

No one could describe the color perfectly, how they could darken to a deepest blue or lighten to a slate color. Or silver, depending on just how annoyed he was. The way he'd tense up almost invisibly, the hand falling on a hip, head lolling, his hair becoming a veil. The way he'd hide himself and his feelings, except only he'd opened for him.

And in that moment, Irvine knew that it didn't matter if they had a future or not, if the world ended the following morning or continued. 

He loved him. Loved. Told him, in words and gestures and with those eyes.

And well aware he hadn't been the first. Knew that by the scar that marked Squall's face... knew from the scars that he couldn't see.

But Irvine swore, swore against alabaster skin as his climax built, that he loved him. 

"Squall...I need to head to my room for a moment. But I'll be back, I promise."

His lion wouldn't wake to find himself alone in the morning. With luck, he wouldn't awaken while he was gathering some things - but luck and Kinneas had few moments together involving Squall.

 

This time, it was the fault of one ex-Knight. A temperamental blonde, who had been sitting in the shadows outside Squall's window.... And had witnessed the whole thing. 

Seifer leaned against the wall, eyes half-closed, sucking on the third cigarette thus far. He wasn't sure if he was feeling pain or disappointment, anger perhaps...

With a scowl, he ground out the half-finished stick beneath his boot heel and eased forward, opening the windows. Squall still didn't lock them - but how many people honestly knew how to sneak over to them anyway?

Before entering the room fully - however, Seifer’s still rival and former lover was already sitting up, face hidden in the shadows.

"So. Did you enjoy the show?"

The usual answer he was expecting wasn't forthcoming. Which surprised him, just a bit. A usual smirk and something along the lines of 'Not as hot as....' Not this. A usually smoldering green gaze, now banked. The inner fire that drove the blonde, was... gone. 

And that voice, though soft.. Hurt. Just that one simple question.

"Why?"

 

The slight caustic tone of his own questioning was his defense. He'd had a feeling Seifer was outside, but hadn't really believed it. Until he saw the telltale sign of a fire spell. Even now, he knew his habits.

“Because.”

And because nothing less then honesty ever counted with either of them.

“I love him.”

All color drained from the blonde's face and he seemed for a moment to be reaching out, as though to steady himself. But then, he tensed, his own mask falling into place easily.

“I see.”

And it was a frostiness Squall would have been proud of... Had he not been the reason for it happening. He sort of curled in upon himself, as though attempting to forget the image of what he’d just seen. The shock and the hurt and several other emotions, passing as quickly as Squalls own on the days he forgot to close himself off to everyone.

“Don’t tell me you still cared for me, Seifer. Don’t you dare.”

A low, pained hiss. 

Followed by a short, sharp bark of laughter.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Leonhart.”

They were lying and they knew it. But it was how it was. 

Still. They couldn’t part that way and as soon as the brunette moved again, mouth opening to speak; the blonde just seemed to pounce. He hauled Squall off the bed, leather grip painfully tight on his upper arms, mouth crushing his pale lips.

While Irvine’s kisses had tasted of the cowboy and laughter and promises, this one tasted bitter. 

And when he let him go, let him fall, he whispered it. Whispered those words Squall had wanted for over five years to hear. The ones Irvine had said easily but looked him right in eye when he said it.

It was the end of a dream, really. In Seifer’s mind at least. He’d lost one, why should he have expected the other to be waiting. And as he turned, striding back to the window, the tears scalding his skin were ignored.

 

When Irvine returned, Squall was standing by the window, sheet wrapped around his waist. His forehead was resting against the glass and everything about the scene just felt ... wrong to him.

“...Squall?”

Wordlessly, the other boy turned around, holding his arms open. A silent plea and Irvine answered, easily. He had no idea what happened, most likely wouldn’t ever want to know. But still, he held him, rocked him softly, murmuring as he stroked his hair. Assuring him everything would be all right. He promised. And he always kept his promises. 

Even in this case. That who he held, though he said he loved him, wasn’t fully his and never would be.


	2. Sometimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postgame of Final Fantasy 8.  
> Prompt quote: If you don't control your mind, someone else will.

"I'm a man."

Three little words.

That tore everything apart.

 

Sometimes, he wondered how life would have been if he'd said 'Fuck you, Bitch.'

Would he be the Hero now? Glory heaped upon him, A knight to the so-called Angel? Heh, Angelwings. Rinoa wasn't an Angel and by Hyne, he knew that well. Wondered if Squall had found out any of her other 'talents' yet. 

Sometimes, he still heard her.

The sound of bells or chimes usually set it off. He'd clutch his head and could her fucking laugh - the soft tinkling of amusement, the harsher mocking peals that came after his failure.

Sometimes, an asshole was a bit too mouthy.

It wasn't his fault that the man's head was perfectly round. The sound of glass shattering against flesh was most gratifying. Being called stone cold crazy was just asking to get your ass taught. He just smiled as the cops came, lifting his hands meekly, adding a boot to the ribs on his way out. Ha.

Sometimes, he felt a little guilty.

Yea, perhaps he shouldn't have caused that blood to spill or bombed a Garden for the hell of it. Perhaps he should have rode Squall's ass a little more often. Perhaps he should have never attempted to help Rinoa and everything would be as it was. But it had happened and he would deal with it.

Sometimes, he thought he still wasn't in control.

Dreams were a thing of the past. When he slept now, it was just flashes of what he'd done, what she'd done - what they did together. Good, bad and otherwise. Unless someone physically woke him, he was stuck in that time, in those memories.

Sometimes, he just wanted to sleep.

Sleep and sleep and sleep. Embrace the darkness. And finally, one night. When it got to be too much and he could hear her laugh again, whispered promises that would never be kept...

He slept.


	3. Branded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by this quote: Beauty is desired in order that it may be befouled; not for its own sake, but for the joy brought by the certainty of profaning it.   
> Final Fantasy VIII.

He was, without a doubt in anyone's mind - beautiful. Creamy skin, darkish hair and those otherworldly eyes. Silver and blue, a mix of winter chill and summer sky. As mercurial as his moods, yet his happiness and his anger were always hidden by silence. Unless one knew what to look for.

Like the man across from him, gun-blade resting easily against a shoulder.

Tanned, with golden hair and blazing emerald eyes. Others, as open as he was with feelings easily knew his anger and his happiness. Easily let his displeasure be known - but he himself, was beautiful as well.

After all, many people had said. But he didn't preen, as much as the other didn't preen. Neither of them truthfully cared what others thought - it was what they thought about each other.

But today, that would change. The skies above them were a forewarning of what was to come.

The boy before him was his, could only be his and today he intended to make his mark. 

He smiled after the down-stroke, at the ruby against his skin, the way it made his eyes seem even bluer. The way it became crimson against the black leather he always adorned himself in. 

Beauty, profaned much like what he learned in an art history class. Of what had had happened to pieces of art that could not be replaced. He didn't want to break however, just bend, just brand. To let him know just what it meant and for others to never truly know.

As he knelt beside him, his own blood dripping into his eyes from a counter slash, the smile remained. Gloved fingers brushed knowingly over skin, tracing something in the not yet died blood.

 

The first thing the Doctor did after bandaging Almasy, was to clean the cross decorating Squall's cheek.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One Piece:  
> Prompt One: A wise man will make more opportunites than he finds.  
>  Sanji reflecting on his captain:
> 
> Prompt Two: Gratitude is the memory of the heart.  
>  Sanji, thanking the other two of the Monster Trio. Could be viewed as post-end of the Manga.

Prompt One:

 

Luffy couldn't be called wise. That wasn't quite the word for what their captain was.

However, there were moments, when something perfectly brilliant would come from his mouth. 

He had his dream - which he was following, but along the way - had made it possible for them to follow their dreams.

All because of something simply said. When his eyes turned serious and what was no more then plain truth dropped from his lips.

Although Sanji was certain he hadn't meant to make them opportunities, to gain another crewmate or save another island, he was just doing what he felt was right.

But to say it was wisdom, that seemed to belittle it. It was something else.

Perhaps the true mark of the Pirate King.

 

 

\------  
Prompt Two:

He's not sure if it's Luffy or Zoro that he's more thankful too. One for making him go and the other for making him open his eyes. To his own dream. To achieve it, one had to believe it, be ready for die for it.

Luffy believed in his. Zoro was ready to die for his.

So, of course, he couldn't give any less. Not to the man who had removed his own leg to save him, because they shared the same dream.

Every morning, now, when he awakes, he traces the too wide smile on one poster and the scowl upon the other before heading into the kitchen. 

They are still with him, those two. His most beloved Nakama.


	5. Happiness is never stopping to think if you are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gundam Wing: 13x5  
> Quote Prompt: Happiness is never stopping to think if you are.

He still remembered his first challenge to this man. The mocking smile that had graced those lips when his blade had been placed against the Chinese boy's neck.

Though their next duel was supposed to have been fought in Gundams, it hadn't happened... yet.

The second time they met, words had been said. Though the end of the night was still slightly fuzzy, he remembered barking something at that man in his native tongue. Those blue eyes darkening for a moment, before suddenly - he was looming before him. The difference in height and just the width of those shoulders had made him shrink back. But he wasn't able to move far before another set of lips was claiming his mouth.

And they dueled. But not with swords or more words. With tongues and teeth and questioning fingers.

 

Wufei woke up alone that morning. Sore... but content. And wanting.

Wanting more of Treize.

In secret, in continued. They would meet when changes were allowed, but often nevermore then a night or two.

Except, finally, a break had happened. 

 

The fire made the gold glint from Treize's hair, adding a warmer tone to his skin as well. Though Wufei knew it to just be a trick of the light, it just drove home the point of just who Treize was... his position, his power.

And how much of it he wielded over the boy, though it would never be admitted. Even so, he couldn't disguise that he enjoyed the moments just like this, it cause a feeling he'd never quite had before. Happiness, he supposed, is what this should feel like. 

 

When Treize glanced up, catching those onyx eyes upon him, he smiled. A shy one was returned, gaze lowering, the faint hint of a blush staining those finely arched cheekbones. Since his Dragon had come to him, stayed with him, he finally had grasped hold of something Millardo had often tried to explain to him.

Happiness.


End file.
